The Undercover Heiress Gets Spoiled Rotten

"Isabella, when you turn eighteen, come find me in Cascadia. I have great wealth waiting for you to inherit..."

Isabella Thornton lay sprawled on the grassy ledge, staring up at the sky framed by the cliff's edge.

Five minutes ago, Stella Thornton had taken her hand, suggesting they take a photo together. The next second, Stella's hands were shoving hard against her back.

If Isabella hadn't scouted this cliff beforehand and prepared for this moment, she would have plummeted to her death.

She couldn't fathom it—after eighteen years of the Thornton family raising her, even if she'd been nothing more than a pet, shouldn't there have been some affection? She had already taken six major disasters meant for Stella, yet the Thorntons still wanted her dead.

Was her death truly inevitable?

Well, if that's how they wanted to play it, she refused to die. She'd flee to Cascadia and seek refuge with her mentor. Once she mastered her abilities, she'd return to settle the score with those three demons masquerading as family.

Isabella sat up angrily and pulled out her tarot deck, beginning to divine her fortune and future.

Six years earlier, she and Stella had graduated elementary school together. Stella had thrown a tantrum about losing her freedom in middle and high school, insisting they both join the mountain skiing research program.

In a restricted area, Stella had begun singing at the top of her lungs. When the avalanche struck, Isabella had pushed Stella to safety, only to be buried herself. She'd spent over a month recovering in a Cascadia hospital.

Her roommate had been a woman in her sixties with a prominent nose and rapid speech, though she despised conversation.

After ten days of shared silence, the woman finally spoke. She introduced herself as Jenny Manners, a practitioner of tarot and other mystical arts—essentially a witch, though Isabella didn't pry.

Taking advantage of Isabella's immobility, Jenny made divination lessons the first order of business each morning. Isabella had no choice but to learn. For an entire month, this continued.

Before leaving, Jenny had given Isabella a phone number and address, warning her never to trust anyone around her.

At the time, the Thornton parents had treated Isabella wonderfully, and she'd never suspected that the disasters plaguing her childhood had been orchestrated by those closest to her.

On the night of her eighteenth birthday, Isabella discovered the true nature of her so-called parents and sister.

Hiding upstairs while preparing a surprise for Stella—who shared her birthday—Isabella overheard a conversation that shattered her world:

"Mother, I can't pretend for another day! She's nothing but a whore's bastard—why should she share my birthday? It's revolting!" Stella's voice dripped with venom.

"Stella, you must remain patient. Have you forgotten what the fortune teller revealed about your destiny?" Julia Winslowe's tone was measured and cold.

"You're a wandering spirit, barely remembered by the forces of hell itself. If not for Isabella's fate bringing you luck, do you really think we would have adopted her?" she added.

"Exactly, Stella. Don't be petulant," Gareth Thornton chimed in. "The diviner said she must shield you from six disasters. Only after your eighteenth birthday can you act without restraint."

"Does that mean I can finally kill her tomorrow?" Stella's excitement was palpable. "She disgusts me! Just because she's supposedly my sister, she thinks she can compete with me for everything! This year, none of the elite families invited her to their debutante events, yet she had the audacity to submit a photo for the competition—and she made it to the finals! That spot is mine! I don't care what it takes—I will be the top socialite's companion at the coming-of-age ceremony!"

"Very well," Julia replied smoothly. "Tomorrow, create one final disaster for her to absorb. After that, dispose of her as you see fit."

Gareth snorted, "Don't bring her back—I'm tired of looking at her face."

"Darling, you really shouldn't have concocted that twin story," Julia complained. "Now everyone congratulates me on having twins. I have only one daughter—Stella. Some bastard child has no right to call me Mom."

Every word pierced Isabella like ice. The drownings, fires, and avalanches she'd endured every few years hadn't been accidents—they'd been deliberately orchestrated by the Thorntons to transfer Stella's misfortunes to her. She wasn't even their biological child.

Then who was she?

As Isabella reached for her bag to flee, her phone buzzed.

Her grandfather's name appeared on the screen. He'd always been kind to her, practically raising her until Julia had insisted Isabella stop visiting, claiming she was too disruptive for an elderly man's peace. Only then did Isabella realize the real reason behind Julia's resentment: the old man doted on Isabella more than he did on Stella.

Looking back, it was understandable. After all, she herself was just an outsider, while Stella was the true-born daughter of the Thornton family.

"Let's go downstairs," Gareth whispered. "That little bitch Isabella will be back with the cake soon. Everyone stay in character—it's the last day. Don't slip up now."

Isabella wiped her tears and climbed down from the second-floor garden, positioning herself at the front door. She deliberately dropped the cake, then picked it up, arranging her expression before entering.

"Isabella! Don't worry about the cake—we'll watch the sunrise together tomorrow! We're eighteen now, and I want to share my first adult sunrise with you!" Stella clung to Isabella's sleeve, voice sickeningly sweet.

"Of course," Isabella replied, her smile never wavering.

That night, Isabella climbed the mountain and secured ropes and cushions at strategic points, returning to the villa only at three in the morning. Which brought her to this moment—lying on the grass, having narrowly escaped death.

Isabella blinked away the sting in her eyes. She could never return to the Thornton Mansion.

But where could she go?

Cascadia seemed like her only option. Jenny might be temperamental, but she was childless and had recently messaged about buying Isabella princess dresses and a Beetle convertible.

Isabella had dismissed Jenny's warnings before—who would suspect their own family? But now that she knew the truth about her parentage, Jenny's words carried new weight.

As Isabella reached for her phone, a shadow fell across her face. A pair of expensive hiking boots and a walking stick came into view, followed by a strikingly handsome man who blocked out the sun entirely.

"Are you quite finished lying there? I need to pass through," the man said coldly, his tone cutting through the post-adrenaline warmth Isabella had been feeling.

"Oh, are you here to jump too?" Isabella shifted slightly to make room. "This is prime real estate. When you land face-first, you'll probably end up right where I'm lying. Tell you what—I'll leave the left side for you. If you survive the fall, we can be neighbors."

"You're insane." Jonathan Hamilton stepped forward, attempting to stride over her.

Isabella wrapped her arms around his leg without warning.

"Let go!"

Jonathan had never been touched by a woman, especially not in such an intimate area. For a moment, he forgot he could simply kick free.

Isabella studied the man, noting how he maintained perfect balance even on one leg. "Listen, you're far too handsome to waste. How about—"

"Absolutely not!" Jonathan's face flushed crimson, his ears burning red.

"—you be my partner in crime... what?" Isabella blinked in confusion.

Jonathan's rejection died in his throat as he processed her actual words, his embarrassment deepening. Without another word, he turned and headed down the mountain path.

"Well, I suppose I've done my good deed for the day—saved a gorgeous man's life," Isabella muttered, brushing herself off as she stood.